


There's No Shepard Without Vakarian

by DAfan7711



Series: Mass Effect Trilogy [3]
Category: Mass Effect - All Media Types, Mass Effect Trilogy
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Asphyxiation, F/M, Happy Ending, Mass Effect 3, Reapers, Romance, War
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-10-11
Updated: 2018-10-19
Packaged: 2019-07-29 02:08:30
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 8,141
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16254506
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DAfan7711/pseuds/DAfan7711
Summary: After saving the galaxy a second time, Commander Shepard is rewarded with house arrest and a potential court martial, while her vigilante turian boyfriend goes semi-legit to fight the Reaper threat. When the Reapers hit, Earth and Palaven burn and Kimberly and Garrus dive into a life of full-on war, hoping that they will somehow meet again. A Shakarian romance from the viewpoints of James Vega, Kimberly Shepard, and Garrus Vakarian. Happy Ending.





	1. Leaving Earth

**Author's Note:**

> This is the long-anticipated sequel to my ME2 romance, [Shakarian](https://archiveofourown.org/works/8633248). Lovely comments from ArtsyGirl and Mordinette's [Peace, Life, and Recovery](https://archiveofourown.org/works/12862713/chapters/29377047) (post-ME3 Shakarian story) inspired me to pick up this story again and start posting chapters.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to my beta reader for this chapter, SnuggleBonnet.

Lieutenant James Vega didn’t mind running security detail when it meant he got to see the Savior of the Citadel every day. It sucked for her, though.

This house arrest was bullshit. Shepard had stopped the Reapers from wiping everyone out _and_ saved the Council and become the first human Spectre. She’d stopped the Collectors, saving tens of thousands of colonists.

He balanced the cafeteria tray on one hand and swiped his security card at her door to let himself in.

She leaned against the window, watching something in the gardens below.

“Commander.”

“Hi, James.”

“Got you some Blasto comics.”

“Heh,” she took the tray from him. “I bet they’re almost as good as this industrial coffee. But you know what?”

“Yeah?” He loved it when she asked him questions.

She smiled sweetly and placed her tray on the desk. “What I’d like even more is another field report.”

“Yeah,” so would he. There hadn’t been any new details in weeks. There were reports, all right, but nothing new in them. Nothing. Reaper agents were stealthy. The Citadel Council continued to insist they weren’t a threat. He wasn’t authorized to tell Shepard that. But he dropped hints sometimes.

“Admiral Anderson will send you a fresh datapad today.” Anderson was her only source of information because the Alliance had locked her out of all extranet communications.

“Thanks, James.”

“Any time.”

He didn’t have an excuse to talk to her more, so he used his security card to unlock her door and let himself out. He had another two hours to guard her door until he was relieved.

Not two seconds later, a Security Council yeoman scurried around the corner and made a beeline for him. “Lieutenant! Anderson needs her _right_ now.”

James zipped his security card through the lock and threw the door open. “Commander, we’ve got to go.”

Shepard trotted out after him. “Sit rep?”

“No idea. Just know that they need you.”

“Heh, everybody needs me, Vega.”

He’d have liked to talk to her more about that, but Anderson himself met them in the hall and James had to fall back to follow them. Shepard was his assignment, even if no one would tell him why the halls were suddenly flooded with every Alliance marine on site, on- and off-duty. All the chatter made it difficult to catch anything from Anderson and Shepard’s conversation.

They approached the Security Council chambers.

Shit.

So much for uneventful field reports.

“The Reapers?” Shepard asked and Anderson stopped on the steps up to the security checkpoint.

“We don’t know. Not for certain.”

Shepard scowled up at him. “What else could it be?”

“The defense committee asked for you, Shepard.” Anderson jogged up the last of the steps and Shepard followed.

“Unless we’re planning to talk the Reapers to death, the committee is a waste of time.”

James agreed, but knew better than to say so.

“Five minutes, Kimberly. Give them a précis on the Reaper threat and I’ll get you airborne.”

“This time they’ll listen?” she asked.

“I’ll get you a ship even if they don’t.”

“David, am I going to be enough? We’re talking thousands of planets, billions of lives.”

“Hackett’s mobilizing all fleets. But we need you, a Council Spectre.”

“Great,” she scoffed, “They want me to play politician.”

“Five minutes. Then the Normandy’s yours.”

James blinked. If Shepard was given the Normandy instead of Anderson, where would he go? He was slated to serve the armory—under Anderson.

“Still in dry dock?” she asked.

“Skeleton crew for the retro fits—Major.”

They’d reached the metal detectors and Major Alenko was on his way out.

“Major?” Shepard asked.

“You hadn’t heard?” Anderson said.

Ho, boy, James couldn’t imagine not telling Captain Toni if he’d been promoted. But Shepard played it cool and professional.

“No. I’ve been in lock up.”

Kaidan cleared his throat. “Sorry.”

She exchanged a polite nod with him and followed Anderson into the defense committee meeting. Alenko watched the door for a while after she disappeared through it.

James didn’t feel like standing in silence until Shepard came back out and Anderson reassigned him. The security officers stood at attention behind the metal detectors and the office staff bustled around them.

“You know the commander?” he asked.

“I used to.”

“C’mon, Alenko, what kind of answer is that?”

Kaidan glared at him. “You know I was on the Normandy. Why’d you even bother to ask?”

“Yeah, under Anderson. You weren’t anywhere near that ship when Cerberus had her.”

“Shepard was XO before Pressly, then took command. I was there at Ilos. Wasn’t in the Mako-through-a-relay adventure, but I was _there_ for the battle of the Citadel.”

James raised his hands in a backing-off sign. “Yeah, man, I got it.”

“And you, Vega—yesterday weren’t you just gushing over Shepard’s Spectre vids?”

“Well, yeah, but—”

An explosion rocked the building.

The ceiling above the metal detectors collapsed, cutting short the screams of the Alliance personnel below. White dust billowed up to sting James’ eyes. A chunk of concrete rolled to a stop just short of his boot. He coughed.

_Dios._

“Shepard!” Kaidan reached for the steaming wall, shrunk back from the oily flames. “Kimberly! _Kimmie!_ ”

The building shook again. They had to get out.

“Can’t get through that way, Major! _Major!_ We’ve got to get to the ship. If she’s alive, that’s where she’s headed.”

James’ comm earpiece sprang to life. “ _Where’s Shepard?!_ ” He didn’t recognize the man’s voice. A synthetic female voice immediately followed.

“This is the SSV Normandy,” she said. “Lieutenant Vega, prepare for extraction and bring Major Alenko with you. Sending the nav point now.”

As if he’d be able to see it. His omni-tool was squawking with _thousands_ of emergency distress signals

“Dammit, EDI, this is _my_ channel!”

“Of course it is, Flight Lieutenant.”

“Don’t call me—argh! Fine, bring Alenko. But tell him I’m still pissed about Horiz—”

The comm went dead and James and Kaidan’s omni-tools went blank for a second before flashing with a single new nav point.

The sudden change made Kaidan look to his omni-tool. “Have we been hacked?”

“I think it’s the Normandy,” James said. The pilot had sounded genuinely pissed, but dragging Kaidan toward a disgruntled former crew mate sounded a lot better than waiting around for the Reapers to harvest them. “Let’s go.”

It was worse than Fehl Prime outside.

The bright blue sky was marred by giant robotic insects. Fucking Reapers dropped down from the fluffy white clouds, faster than any frigate. Husks and cannibals swarmed the harbor, the embassy, the academy—the _kids_ ’ academy. The horrors were climbing the fucking walls, fast as spiders.

He hated spiders.

James only had his security sidearm. No armor. No grenades. Just a one-shot-at-a-time pistol that was so damn slow he punched more husks than he shot.

Kaidan flung cannibals left and right with his fancy blue biotics, his pistol still holstered at his hip. He shot a singularity toward a storm grate the aliens were crawling out of. They snarled as they floated up— _wham!_ He hit them with warp and they exploded with a bigger mess than carnage rounds.

James spent his last thermal clip. “I’m out!”

Kaidan shot a hand out, erecting a barrier around them while he handed James his issue. “I’ve only got one!”

Cannibals bounced against the barrier, tearing at it with their gross, fleshy arms. The barrier flickered, but held. It didn’t keep out the monsters’ roars, or the soul-rending _BWUUHMMM_ the giant Reapers shouted across the world every few seconds. It reverberated in his chest, along his teeth.

They’d barely made it ten meters, and more husks had cut them off from Alliance headquarters. They wouldn’t make it to the rendezvous.

He gritted his teeth, ready to take as many down as he could.

“Major Alenko and company, prepare for immediate extraction,” their blocked comms sprung to life with the A.I.’s voice again and they looked to the sky.

The Normandy swooped down with the cargo bay door open. What kind of dipshit made a move like that? Looked cool, though.

Hope restored, James grinned and raced Alenko toward the end of the pier. They leapt for the ship, stale recycled air rushing past them into the war zone.

As James’ boot left the pier, biotic energy crashed over him like an ocean wave. He gasped and threw his hands out, ready for the force to throw him. Instead, it was a swift, controlled drift down into the cargo bay, where they landed on their feet.

The bay ramp was already closing behind them.

“Whew,” James’ heart was pounding faster from that than from their ground battle. He tingled all over. “That’s some trick.”

Kaidan was already running for an equipment locker with the focus of someone intimately familiar with his ship. “Sorry,” he snapped, “there wasn’t exactly time to ask your permission.”

James released breathless chuckle and tried the nearest locker—An Avenger and concussive rounds. They’d do. “Thanks, Alenko. Appreciate it.”

Kaidan tapped his comm and yanked blue armor out of his locker. “Cargo to bridge, where the hell are we going? Kimberly’s down there!”

“I was on my way to get her, _Major_ , but EDI insisted we stop to pick up your ungrateful ass. We’re _there_ , by the way. Opening bay doors.”

No time to suit up. James grabbed the Avenger and extra clips and followed Kaidan to the ramp. His stomach did a flip-flop when the bay ramp lowered again. They were _really_ high up, and flying without harnesses.

 _There!_ Shepard’s dark blonde hair shone gold in the bright sun. She’d climbed to the top of a fallen bridge, and was pulling Anderson up after her. Miraculously, there were no husks on their tail.

He glanced further out and his heart sank. They were swarming the civilian pier on the other side of the harbor. Two Reapers stood above, walking with their giant insect legs, decimating buildings with single shots from their optical lasers. Any return fire from their ship would just make more casualties.

Blue light at his side drew his attention back to the Normandy.

“Welcome aboard, Shepard,” Kaidan said.

“Thanks.” She let her biotics fizzle out. A battered Avenger steamed in her hands. She turned back to the open bay door and looked down.

Anderson didn’t join them.

The admiral saluted Shepard, she saluted back, and they were off.

James exchanged a confused look with Kaidan. “We’re _leaving_?” he squeaked and cleared his throat. Shepard was already half-way down the shuttle bay. He strode after her. “ _Hey!_ ”

“Anderson ordered us to the Citadel.”

Panic finally broke free in James’ chest. He could handle a fight. But to run, abandon all those people down on the pier . . . it was something he’d done before. No, he couldn’t leave the civilians behind.

“Bullshit! He wouldn’t—”

“ _Stow it_ , Lieutenant,” she spun and poked a finger in his chest. “Without help, this war is already over. Either fall in line, or check yourself into the med bay. I’m not going to waste time sticking you in the brig.”

“Commander,” the A.I.’s voice came on the overhead speakers.

“Hit me, EDI.”

“Emergency transmission from Admiral Hackett.”

“Put him through.” Shepard strode to the nearest console. Hackett’s vid feed popped up, full of static.

James frowned and rubbed at his chest. She hadn’t poked him very hard, but the weight behind her reprisal was as heavy as a krogan charge. He’d trained his whole adult life to be an Alliance Marine, and the first time Earth is hit with a major invasion, he loses his shit like a new recruit.

He’d do better for her next time.

“Mars . . . Liara . . . conventional. The only way to win this . . . ” The feed was garbled, but they could get enough information through both ways.

The mission: Stop at Mars for Dr. T’Soni, because . . . because the Protheans maybe left behind some kind of weapon? Clearly it hadn’t worked for _them_. The Reapers had wiped them out. But the brass hoped it would work now.

It was spooky, being one of the only three humans to see Hackett’s message. The bay should be full of crewmates ready to bust some Reaper ass. There was no one, not even the fighter jock who maintained the Kodiak. James ran his thumb over the nameplate on the frame of the workstation: _Cortez_.

Maybe he’d been on a supply run and caught an evac.

Or maybe he was buried under the rubble of Alliance HQ, one of countless casualties. Like Robert.

Damn it! James had been looking forward to joining Steve’s armory team after the retrofits were done. Anderson had personally invited them both to serve on the Normandy, which the admiral had planned to use as his mobile command center.

Now it was Shepard’s ship again.

“Grab your gear,” she ordered, pulling an N7 breast plate and greaves out of the first locker in the row. He was close enough to see the little laugh lines at the corner of her lips, but she wasn’t laughing. Inside her locker door was a discreet sticker about the size of the palm of his hand.

It was the Archangel, Savior of Omega, logo. Below it was a Savior of the Citadel sticker.

He doubted she’d stuck the second one there herself—she never tooted her own horn—but the first he’d bet was her doing. He’d seen most of her mission reports after she’d turned the SR2 over to the Alliance. Anderson had insisted he know more about her allies and who _not_ to shoot when they showed up unannounced.

The info packet had also included Yeoman Chambers’ reports, which revealed her concerns about the commander’s blossoming romance with a certain turian vigilante. James didn’t know if Anderson had intended for him to receive those files as well.

He averted his gaze and went in search of armor. The Normandy had been in dry dock for retrofits, but they should still have one or two sets that fit him. He hoped. That’d be embarrassing:

_Uh, Commander, sorry I can’t cover you on Mars, because, uh, my shoulders are too big._

He headed for the guest lockers, where most frigate crews kept spare equipment.

A ping echoed in his earpiece and the A.I. spoke on his private channel, “Lieutenant, I believe you will find what you seek in locker ten.”

“You a mind reader?” he asked, shivering and looking over his shoulder. Shepard and Alenko paid him no mind. If they could hear his side of the conversation, they didn’t care.

“No.” Did the synthetic sound _amused_? “Shepard’s orders were to gear up. Admiral Anderson has assigned your personal gear to locker ten.”

“Uh, thanks.”

“Eedee. My name is EDI.”

“Right.” Because being on a first-name basis with an unshackled A.I. was just the thing to calm his nerves after a full retreat from his burning home planet.

Good thing there wasn’t time to ruminate on that. The Normandy was entering orbit.

“You up for flying us, Vega?” Shepard asked.

“Yes, Commander.” If he scratched the Kodiak, Steve would hunt him across the galaxy. If he was still alive.

Shepard nodded. “Let’s move o—”

The elevator doors swooshed open and Steve Cortez stepped out. He wore his flight suit and had a helmet under his arm, his issue at his hip.

“Esteban!” James grinned and opened his arms wide.

Steve saluted Shepard. “Commander. Flight Lieutenant Steve Cortez. Sorry I wasn’t here to welcome you. I was in the CIC when the Reapers hit.”

Shepard returned the salute. “Well done, Lieutenant. I’ll let you get to your pre-flight checklist. I assume EDI has briefed you on our coordinates and mission?”

“Yes ma’am.” He offered James a brittle smile. “The illustrious Mr. Vega. Would you like to be my co-pilot?”

“Sure thing, man.”

On approach, Steve tried raising the research base on the comm. “No communications, Commander. Lines are open, but silent.”

Shepard came forward and took hold of the grab bar over the co-pilot seat. An incoming sand storm made for a rough ride. Alenko got up to stand beside her, and she shuffled a step away from him. “Did they evacuate?” she asked.

James accessed the traffic control feeds, “Negative. All shuttles accounted for, and no emergency messages other than the one from Earth.”

“Takes us in to the furthest landing pad, Cortez. As discreetly as possible.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

It was an easy shuttle drop, with no enemies in sight, but the incoming sand storm was fast – ten minutes, tops, before it would be on top of them. They left Steve alone to guard the shuttle and made for the research center on foot.

The next pad over, they found a lone body lying on the ground. He wore Alliance armor.

Kaidan pulled up his omni-tool for a scan. “Sergeant Reeves. Single execution shot to the back of the head.”

Dread rippled down James’ spine. Reapers didn’t use bullets.

The sound of a gunshot echoed up the hill and Shepard ran ahead, just a half-step quicker than him.

A squad of Cerberus troops surrounded a handful of Alliance soldiers who were on their knees, their hands laced behind their heads. Their full armor made it impossible to see their faces.

“Holy shit, they’re execut—” before James could finish his shocked exclamation, Shepard was gone in a streak of blue light.

Her angry scream filled his comm, making him flinch. Her biotic charge bowled over the troops lining up their next shot, leaving bits of white and yellow armor in her wake.

A flash of white caught James’ eye. “Sniper! Two o’clock, on the ridge.”

Kaidan hit the enemy with Cryo Blast while James readied a carnage shot for the troops below. Shit, they were too close to the prisoners for it, and too far for an accurate Avenger shot.

When the remaining Cerberus troops set their sights on Shepard’s path, one of the Alliance survivors dragged the other two behind a mako.

He had a clear shot.

“Gotcha.” He sent a carnage shot into the Cerberus soldier in the middle and all of them were blown apart.

“All clear,” Shepard announced. “Patching allies into comms.”

James carefully followed Kaidan down the rocky hill face while Shepard assessed the survivors. One of them—the one who had dragged her squad to safety—was weeping, but her report was quick and precise.

“Fifty dead, one of us wounded, and I doubt you’ll find survivors inside, Commander. We were on a perimeter patrol when an automated security message pinged us—but Cerberus was already here. Either they came in on regularly scheduled Alliance transports, or they’ve got someone on the inside.”

She took a shuddering breath. “It’s mostly civilian contractors. Researchers who have never held a gun. They’ve got no chance.”

“Well done, Sergeant Billings,” Shepard lay a hand on the other woman’s shoulder. “Any of you in shape to fly?”

“Yeah, I’ve flown in worse shape.” Billings had stopped crying, her voice now thickened like she had a cold. She pointed to the nearest landing pad, where an Alliance shuttle sat unattended, “I can get us out of here.”

“Reapers are on Earth, in full force,” Shepard said and the other two survivors gasped.

Billings nodded. “We’ll immediately report to Fifth Fleet for reassignment. Good luck, Commander.”

“You too.”

Weapon ready, Shepard led James and Kaidan into the archives bunker. There weren’t stairs at this entrance, so they’d have to risk using the elevator and hope Cerberus wasn’t guarding it up top.

The airlock hissed shut behind them and the lift began its slow crawl upward. As soon as the room pressurized properly, they took off their helmets and exited into a cargo bay empty of people.

“Why is Cerberus here, Shepard?” Kaidan demanded.

“Kaidan, how far up your ass do you want my boot, because that’s where it’s headed,” Shepard retorted. “I wasn’t recruited by Cerberus. When I had no other option, I used their ship, and now it’s flying Alliance colors. I don’t know _what_ the Illusive Man is planning.”

“But you were _with_ them—”

“Shepard’s been under constant surveillance,” James chimed in. He didn’t want the two biotics to tear each other apart when there were real enemies to face. “I ran the security detail, under Anderson’s direct supervision. No way they’ve been in contact.”

“Don’t waste your breath, Lieutenant. He won’t listen to my jailer either.”

Was _that_ how she saw him? She’d been pretty informal this morning, even calling him James. Did she really think he was just some brutish grunt who kept her locked up?

A clatter in the overhead vents immediately had them on high alert. James and Kaidan followed Shepard’s silent hand motions to take cover behind a mako and some storage crates.

And then a blue goddess fell from the ceiling, a pair Cerberus shock troops close on her tail.


	2. Dark Channels

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to my lovely beta readers for this chapter, adriyelchan and [mordinette](https://archiveofourown.org/users/mordinette).
> 
> Content includes memories of asphyxia.

Liara had a new, confident grace that Kimberly appreciated. On Illium, she’d lashed out with angry vengeance and threatened to torture clients for non-payment. Here, with the stakes even higher, she was as cool as a Matriarch, quick with singularity and pistol, yet compassionate. She also showed an admirable amount of patience when it came to Kaidan’s bitching.

The hardest part of seeing her again was that Kimberly expected to see Garrus again, too. She’d never been on the same planet or ship as Liara without Garrus at her side, and it was throwing her for a loop more than the attack on Alliance HQ:

When Liara sent out a singularity, there was no Garrus with a concussive shot. It was James and his carnage rounds. His shorter, bulkier body; his human accent; his different style. The battle rhythm was different. It was like trying to sing a tune you’ve never heard before. It’s not quite as smooth as the one you know and love. They made it work, but Kim was just a fraction of a second slower than she usually was.

And a fraction of a second could mean the difference between becoming a husk or stopping Cerberus.

They donned their helmets again and braved the journey between buildings, into the main archive.

They were too late to save the scientists.

Bodies on the cafeteria floor, with the airlock standing wide open to the harsh elements of Mars.

_Spinning away from Jeff’s escape pod. Cold blackness. No air—_

Her breath caught in her throat, closing up like—she scrunched her eyes shut and forced all the air out of her lungs, made herself take a deep breath.

 _There_ , see? The oh-two tubes still work. Her helmet is fine. She’s fine. They’re fine. They need to stops Cerberus and get out before the Reapers—

“Fucking monsters,” James grumbled on the comms. “Shitty way to go.”

“Yeah.” She turned away, dreading the nightmares she’d probably have the next time she bunked.

Her heart was cold as space when they encountered the next Cerberus squad. With quiet precision, she and James blew them apart with carnage rounds. Kaidan scooped up the stragglers in a singularity and Liara vaporized them with warp. The swift, decisive battle raised Kim’s spirits. Perhaps her new team had rhythm after all.

“The data cache is in here.” Liara took cover by the door.

Kaidan covered her flank, and James and Kim took the other side. When they opened the door, there was no answering fire. It was just a big, round, tall room full of Prothean lights and no people. The walls were the same dingey green and brown as all the other Prothean ruins they’d seen. Contemporary workstations, each like a little three-walled office, surrounded the perimeter.

“Kaidan, James.” She nodded in each direction and they trotted off to make sure the room was clear. Then she joined Liara at the nearest console. “Any luck?”

“Passwords have been changed, but it should only take a moment for me to override.” Liara slipped an OSD into the workstation. “Initiating download. Goddess! The data’s being erased! Locally.”

“Save what you can,” Kim ordered.

“Hey!” Kaidan’s voice was close in the comms, even though he was on the far side of the giant room. He approached a workstation with his Avenger trained on a target hidden by the wall. “Step away from the console!”

 _Wham!_ He was thrown backward, his helmet hitting hard enough to dent the wall. He fell to the floor, motionless.

A dark-haired woman in a white science uniform bolted for the door.

Kim didn’t even have time to register that the target wasn’t wearing a helmet – she was there with Cerberus, Kaidan was unconscious or dead, and she was running off with their best hope of defeating the Reapers.

_Duuggge!_

Biotic charge.

Kim hit metal, not flesh. It was like plowing into a wall, but she followed through. They hit the far wall together, the mech grappling at Kim’s arms, reaching for her helmet.

_I’m going to be spaced again._

Sparks exploded in front of her visor and the mech slumped to the floor, dragging Kim down with her.

“Kimberly!” Liara ran forward and helped her up. “Are you hurt?”

Words didn’t work.

She couldn’t breathe.

What was the question? Was she okay?

“Naugh—nottt really,” she shuddered out, letting Liara wrap her in a hug. Hugs were always weird, especially in full armor, but sometimes, when you escaped death by a millisecond, you needed one. “You, you shot. Shot it?”

“Yes.” Liara leaned back, concern clear in her blue eyes behind her helmet’s visor.

“A mech.” James scowled down at it. “I’ll check on the major.”

“Thanks,” Kim managed. Her hands were steady when she picked up her Phaeston, but a sick, watery trembling filled her chest.

“—ander.” Cortez’s commlink was choppy from the sand storm. “Cerb . . . enforcements inboun . . . Normandy reports Reap—”

She almost welcomed the new threat. It distracted her from her quaking soul.

James had finished his omni-scans of Kaidan and secured his weapons. “Vitals within normal range,” he reported grimly, “but cranial swelling has already started.”

Kim secured her rifle. “Liara, you take Kaidan; you’ve got the best biotic shields. I’ve got the mech. James, you kill any son of a bitch who dares show his face.”

“Aye, aye Commander.”

The dead weight of the mech over her shoulders was no big deal, now that it wasn’t trying to suffocate her.

James took point. With two of them carrying bodies, the way out was slower, but the blood-spattered hallways were eerily quiet. There was no turian hum to break the tension.

_“Hospitals aren’t fun to fight through.”_

_“What is fun to fight through?”_

_“Gardens, electronic shops. Antique stores, but only if they’re classy.”_

But the sand on the floor was from Mars, not Tuchanka, and her salarian and turian squadmates were M-I-A, off doing what they could in a galaxy torn apart by giant A.I.’s that wanted to turn them all into liquid paste.

“Hey.” James held his fist up, gesturing for them to pause. “Cerberus left some heavy munitions crates here.”

“Grab one,” Kim said. “Cortez said reinforcements were inbound. Let’s hope they’re all on one shuttle.”

He picked up an ML-77 and led the way onward, out the open airlock. Speeding black specks—Reapers—were growing over the horizon, and Cortez had a white-and-yellow bogey on his tail.

“Engaging! One bird!” he shouted over comms. He flipped the Kodiak sideways, between two spires of rock and zipped past the landing pad.

“I got this one!” James fired the seventy-seven and the rocket spiraled after the shuttles, homing in on the Cerberus shuttle when it banked hard right.

The enemy shuttle broke up over the next ridge, flaming pieces thrown everywhere by the sandstorm. A door whipped back toward the landing pad, passing just inches in front of Kim’s face.

That was too close.

Heart pounding, she made the last few steps to the landing pad, where Cortez was hovering the Kodiak a few feet off the ground. When they were all in, the door slid shut and they were off before anyone was strapped in.

She dumped the mech in the storage compartment and helped Liara secure Kaidan to a stretcher.

The short, swift ride back to the Normandy was tense, but there was no sign of Reaper pursuit. Maybe the storm had messed with their sensors, too.

As soon as they landed in the shuttle bay, the Normandy jumped to FTL.

Cortez yanked his helmet off. “You want to _not_ use an RPG when I’m in range?”

“Sorry, man.” James cleared his throat and looked away at the floor.

“That was some fancy flying, Lieutenant,” Kim said. She wasn’t going to bother censuring Vega right now. Getting Kaidan to emergency medical was more important.

“Yeah.” James perked up. “Esteban is one hundred percent fighter jock.”

Cortez ignored him. “Thank you, Commander. If I had my old Trident, I could show you some real moves.”

“I look forward to that day, Lieutenant. You two see to it the shuttle and armory are in order. I’ll be down for a sit rep later.”

She and Liara carried Kaidan to the med bay and lay his stretcher gently on an exam table. The bay appeared well stocked with everything—except a doctor.

Kim lay her helmet on the desk and looked down at Kaidan’s stone-still form, considering the best way to remove his armor. “Ideas?” she asked.

“You know I’m not a medical doctor, right?” Liara already had her gloves off and was washing her hands.

“Yeah, but you’ve patched me up in the field a few times. Ever dealt with head injuries? I assume medi-gel won’t be sufficient.”

“That would be correct,” EDI spoke on the overhead and the monitors at Kaidan’s bedside sprung to life. “I have compiled potential treatments in order of likely success. The primary concerns are cerebral edema and respiratory distress. A list of on-hand diuretics and corticosteroids is displayed for your review. The war room guards have agreed to haul ice from the mess hall to pack around Major Alenko to reduce swelling.”

“Wow, EDI, that was fast. Too bad you don’t have a mobile platform. I’d promote you to ship’s medic.”

“Thank you, Commander, but I think that you would prefer I continue running the Normandy’s warfare suite at full capacity.”

Kim chuckled, “Noted.”

“I’ll stay with him,” Liara said gently. “You focus on what you need to do.”

“Thanks.” Kim picked up her helmet. “Uh, EDI?”

“Yes, Commander?”

“Any word from Palaven?”

“No, Kimberly. All channels are dark. I’m sorry.”

“Thanks anyway, EDI.” Perhaps asking was stupid. But her heart couldn’t stand not knowing. “Keep me posted?”

“I will.”

Kaidan safe in Liara’s hands, Kim headed for the war room vid comm. She had to report to Hackett.

The Fifth Fleet was doing poorly, and her report wasn’t much better. She had a deactivated Cerberus mech with a superweapon blueprint of unknown origin in its head, and was the CO on a mission that had nearly killed one of the Alliance’s most prominent biotics trainers.

_Major Alenko was critically injured._

_Sorry to hear that, Shepard. But we both know this is just the beginning._

When it came to the Citadel Council, Hackett had the same attitude Anderson did.

_Then make them listen._

_Do whatever it takes to get them on board._

As if shouting was all you had to do to win a war.

She saluted, he saluted, and she went to find a shower and clean uniform. Bloody armor and stinky human sweat would gain her no friends on the Presidium.

Joker and EDI had them through the relay and docked at the Citadel in record time. Huerta Memorial sent a squad of EMT’s to meet them at docking bay D24, and they whisked Kaidan off to intensive care.

It would be a few hours before he would be allowed visitors, so Kim checked in with C-Sec, learned Bailey had been “promoted” from C-Sec captain to the commander in charge of embassy security, and hunted down Councilor Udina—who had gone into session without her.

The son of a bitch. Did humanity really have no other option on the Citadel? He didn’t endear humans to other humans, much less the other standoffish members of the Citadel Council. Tevos may have had some secret, Matriarchy agenda for keeping Udina on board, but it was a total mystery why Valern and Sparatus hadn’t yet found a way to kick his ass to the curb.

When Kim went into the emergency session, Sparatus calmly tolerated Udina at his side, keeping the human as far from the salarian as was possible without shoving him over the balcony. Her respect for the turian councilor went up a notch.

Momentarily. Until he let Valern bully everyone else into refusing to help Earth. They didn’t want to be bothered with helping build the Crucible either, even though the Alliance had already done the prep work and collected significant materials and staff for it.

Typical. They’d been grateful for about five minutes after the geth attack, and were right back to sticking their heads in the sand.

“The cruel and unfortunate truth is that while the Reapers focus on Earth, we can prepare and regroup.”

Was every asari commando as dumb as the asari councilor? If so, Thessia was going to be in big trouble very soon.

They’d consider helping humanity after they secured their own borders. Like it was a colonial affairs dispute. Reapers didn’t care about borders. They plowed through entire planets in minutes. They’d even bombarded Bekenstein from orbit, not bothering to land and harvest the humans below.

No, if anyone other than humans survived this mess, it would be because the humans gave a shit about everyone else.

Worthless meeting adjourned, Liara walked out with her, “I’m sorry, Shepard. I had thought Thessia would see the need to help.”

Kim shook her head, “Liara, I love you, and you’re the most brilliant information broker in the galaxy. But sometimes you’re as naive as you were they day we met.”

“I know.” Liara smiled sadly. “We all want to assume the best of our own home.”

Kim sighed, “That we do.”

Sparatus strode down the hall toward them, his sights set on her. Kim sighed again. “Let’s hope this is Spectre business, and not another denial.”

“Let me know if you hear anything on Palaven,” Liara said.

“Yeah,” Kim whispered, not daring to hope she’d get real answers.

Garrus.

What was one turian’s life in the view of the Turian Hierarchy, even if he was the Savior of Omega—especially if he was that vigilante from Omega. They had a real thing about their _order_ and very specific views on honor. They may have had the largest military in the galaxy, but they were more about rules than personal attachments. If you wanted a warrior’s heart, humans had more kinship with the krogan.

Liara squeezed her elbow and kissed her cheek. “We’ll find him. I’ll meet you at the hospital.”

“Commander, a word,” Sparatus said, gesturing toward Bailey’s office. She ducked in and he followed.

Bailey looked up from his desk. “Commander! Councilor.”

Sparatus nodded in greeting, “Some privacy, please, Bailey.”

Bailey raised his eyebrows, cleared his throat, and locked his workstation. “Garrus know about this?”

“It’s not that kind of meeting, Bailey,” Sparatus said and Kim chuckled.

Bailey left and the door lock flashed from green to red.

Sparatus stood at parade rest.

“Commander, I can’t give you what you need, but I can tell you how to get it.”

“I’m listening.”

“A grateful Primarch would be a tremendous ally in your bid to unite us.”

“Go on.”

“The Reapers have reached Palaven, in full force.”

Her gut clenched. Palaven burned. No wonder he’d hunted her down outside of session.

“We’ve lost contact with Primarch Fedorian,” he said. “With the Normandy’s stealth drive, you can get in and extract him. _He_ can make a war summit happen. He can get you the ships and resources you need.”

“We’ll leave within the hour,” Kim promised.

“Thank you, Commander.”

She nodded and headed for the door. It would be a scramble to get more crew on board before departure.

“Shepard.”

She paused and looked back.

“I don’t know the current status of Advisor Vakarian, but last I heard he was fighting.”

Of course he was.

“Thank you, sir.”


	3. Let's Dance

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to my lovely beta reader for this chapter, [mordinette](https://archiveofourown.org/users/mordinette).

Long flights were boring, especially when Steve was too distracted to banter back when James talked smack. His gear was clean and stowed. He had a few of the surplus rifles out of the unassigned lockers lined up on his bench, all in good shape. They weren’t shiny enough to make him look weird if he set to polishing them—a third time. He’d taken two go-rounds solo on his punching bag and thought a third might make him too sore to be of any use tomorrow. Besides, Steve had started glaring at him after the first hour of grunting at the stupid sack.

So, he sat down on his stool at his workbench and dragged a tattered spiral notebook and pencil stub out of his duffel. He flipped through the pages until he found a blank one, set the notebook next to his datapad, and pulled up the random formulas generator ap. He copied down the first algebra problem with heavy dark lines, then showed every step to solve it.

It took more time that way. Do them in your head and it’s over too fast.

He got to the fifth one before he made a mistake. He drew a heavy line through the problem and rewrote it on the next clean line to start over.

The elevator door whooshed open. It was Shepard. She was talking to Steve about the Kodiak. He couldn’t catch all the words under the hum of the hvac systems. After a few minutes, it sounded like their conversation was winding down.

_She’s probably going to head over here next._

The thought made him queasy. Maybe she was going to ream him out again. Higher ground would be good.

James tucked his pencil under his current page and rose from his stool, stretching his arms overhead. Then jumped up to grab the pull-up bar next to his work bench, his back to the other people in the shuttle bay. He was on rep twelve when he heard her boots approaching on the metal walkway.

“Shepard,” he called out. Best to get the first shot when you could.

“Good evening, Vega.” She stood in front of him, far enough back that she didn’t need to crane her neck to talk directly. She’d cleaned up in fresh Alliance regs. Little wisps of hair had escaped her tight bun and haloed around her forehead and neck. “I’m checking in with everyone, getting backgrounds.”

“What’s to tell? You already know my service record.”

She cocked her head, eyebrow raised, pink lips scrunched in a half-grimace. “When would I have looked at your personnel record in Vancouver?”

He felt his cheeks heat and hoped it didn’t show. “Yeah, right. House arrest. Sorry, Commander.”

His arms _were_ sore from the bag, and started to shake. He dropped down before she could notice.

“Think you can dance and talk at the same time?” James raised his fists in the air, mimicked a one-two punch.

She shook her head with a laughing scoff. “Vega, everybody knows Shepard can’t dance.”

Eyes on his station, Steve’s low chuckle echoed across the shuttle bay. “Everybody in the _galaxy_ knows that.”

She bunched her cheeks up in an overly-sweet smile, her steely stare demanding he back down.

James hunched his shoulders. “Yeah.”

She nodded toward his workbench. “Need help calibrating those rifle scopes? We could do that while we chat.”

What did he have on his bench? Nothing untoward . . . there was his notebook. “Uh, I’m done crunching numbers and re-assembling. I’ve just got some cleanup left. You don’t need to bother.”

She swung past him and straddled a crate at the short end of the bench, picked up a polishing cloth. “We’ve got time. I’d like to keep busy until we hit Menae.”

“Okay.” He took a breath and casually flipped his datapad overtop of his notebook, slid them into his duffle.

She asked about Steve, Fehl Prime, his family. Like it was just normal stuff over beer, instead of reminders that Robert was dead, the colonists were dead, his dad was shit. The image of a smoldering teddy bear flashed through his mind and he clenched his jaw, willing away the aftermath of the Collector attack.

Anyone else, he’d knock out their teeth, but her voice flowed like a sweet Peach Pick sipped on a sandy beach. He missed real air and salt water.

Space was so cold.

He shrugged, focused on his rifle, instead of how her green eyes shone emerald in the workbench’s spotlight. “Like I said, my uncle got me into the Marines, and he’s the only person I want to check on.”

“That’s fair, Vega. I’ll see what EDI can find.”

“Thanks.” He hadn’t expected her to allocate resources to find Uncle Emilio.

They stowed the rifles in the appropriate lockers. It was nice to be at her side when bullets weren’t flying.

Her neck was a little straighter than it should have been, not quite curved properly, and she had a lovely tan birthmark stretched across the back of it. He caught himself raising his hand to touch it and quickly shoved his hands in his pockets.

She closed the final locker, paused with her hand flat against it, staring at the blue paint. “You got yourself into the Marines, James. No one else.”

She smiled. “Cheer up, Vega. It’s only the end of the galaxy as we know it. We’re going to find ourselves the Primarch—” her smile wavered for a second and she blinked. Did she know something about the turians he didn’t? “—and get everybody together to take these bastards down. We’ll get home to Anderson and everyone.”

He bounced on his toes for that. Anderson would make sure there was something left to save. “Hell, yeah. I hope he leaves some for us.”

“Yeah!” Steve chimed in over his shoulder, still focused on his terminal.

“Good night, James.” She headed for the elevator, waving over her shoulder. “Later, Cortez!”

“Later.”

James watched her bad-ass stride, very interested in how her uniform fit her butt. “Thanks for the pep talk, Lola.”

She stopped and turned, eyebrows raised. “Lola?”

“Uh oh,” Steve said, resolutely focused on his damn loadout screen, but James was still buzzing from what she’d said about Anderson, and his tongue was a little looser than was probably wise.

“Yeah, you look like a Lola.” He winked and turned to head back for his duffel.

He hadn’t taken a single step before a flash of blue biotic light made him draw up short. She stood in front of him, blocking his way back to his workbench, eyes raging green fire.

His buzz snap-froze faster than a Hagalaz sunset.

“My name is Commander Shepard, Alliance Navy, captain of the SSV Normandy.”

“Yes, ma’am. Sorry, ma’am.”

She gave him a curt nod and left.

Stomach and hands trembling, James grabbed his bag and headed for the elevator.

Steve logged out and joined him. “Well, that went well.”

“Stow it, Esteban.”

“Sure, man, but you might want to consider she woke in the clutches of Cerberus scientists with morals worse than Doctor Frankenstein, saved the galaxy for a second time anyway, _and_ was thanked for that by spending the last six months in lockup. I’d say she very much doesn’t want people messing with her. No matter how many pull-ups he can do.”

“Shit, man.” James sighed. “I’ll work on my decorum tomorrow. Right now, I can’t wait for that cerveza we’ve got waiting in the lounge.”

“Uh, can I have a raincheck? I’m beat.”

James suppressed another sigh. He’d really struck out tonight. Not even Steve wanted to hang with him.

“Sure. Anytime.”

When they arrived at the crew’s quarters, Steve took his shower basket down to the showers. James stowed his duffel under his bunk and headed down to the lounge. A short bar on one end, vacant poker table on the other, and a stiff modern sofa in front of the wall of glass that looked out into space.

Empty. Of course. Not even one of the War Room guards to flirt with to stave off boredom.

Well, cerveza was the plan, and he’d stick to it. The mini fridge held a tall bottle of beautifully clear tequila, too, but they had a mission with the turians in the morning, so he settled for one of the little gold beer bottles, popped the lid, and chucked the bottle cap in the recycle bin.

He took a pull. The bubbles just didn’t taste the same solo.

James slumped down to sit on the arm of the sofa and stared out into the black. Even the stars were distant, tiny pricks of light.

Space was so damn cold.

He poured the rest of his beer down the sink and chucked the bottle into the recycle bin.

-

Kimberly Shepard was tired. Tired of roadblocks. Tired of politicians sacrificing billions to save their pride. Tired of telling people the Reapers are coming. Tired of explaining to people the Reapers _are here_. Tired of being a science project. Tired of being a prisoner. Tired of lecherous men giving her pet names. Tired of being alone.

EDI and Joker were great, sure, and Joker’s hell-yes-you’re-alive hug, while welcome, was so exuberant she’d worried he’d break a rib—hers, not his. She smiled at the memory, replayed it in her mind as she changed into a C-Sec tee and cotton pajama pants. She combed out her hair.

And faced the empty bed.

Queen sized.

The bedside table on the right was empty, too. No blue targeting visor. No three-fingered gloves. No not-so-secret notes on human courtship rituals.

The last time she’d slept in this room, Garrus had kissed her, promised to be waiting for her after her court martial. She’d been denied extranet messages for the past six months, so she didn’t know if he’d tried and the messages had been wiped by Alliance brass, or if he’d just been waiting until he knew she was free.

Now Palaven was on fire. Citadel intel said he was there. So were the Reapers. In full force.

Tomorrow, the Normandy’s stealth engines would get them in and out of the moon outpost, Menae, with the Primarch, and the hope he’d be grateful enough to convince the Summit to send fleet support to Earth.

In and out. Quick shot. With no idea where Garrus was below and if he needed help. A humorless laugh escaped her lungs, echoed off the bare metals of the room. Of course he needed help.

She shoved the panicked, spiraling thoughts from her mind. Forced her stiff fingers to pull back the comforter. Made herself curl up in the bed.

She kicked one foot out from under the hot, heavy blankets, wiggled her toes. The sheets were pleasantly cool against her cheek, but they didn’t smell like Garrus. Like the fancy turian moisture soap she’d found for him on the Citadel. It wasn’t flowery or foody—at least not any food scent she’d found on Earth. Did fresh water have a smell after it was purified? Was that it?

She didn’t get dextro scents. She didn’t care. It was clean and it was Garrus as much as spent thermal clips and firing algorithms. She’d have to ask Cortez to order her some. She didn’t care if it took all her credits to get a single damn bottle. She could live off rations forever. If Garrus wasn’t at her side, she was at least going to have some of his damn soap.

She tried her favorite position on her right side, but didn’t feel sleepy. Flipped her pillow over when the side against her face got too warm. When that side was no longer cool, she stole Garrus’ pillow from the other side of the bed, tucked the unheated fabric in the crook of her neck. She rolled to her back, stared up at the skylight. Billions of specks of light zipped through the black sky as the Normandy raced toward Palaven.

She was tired. The wrong kind of tired. And alone. If only there was someone . . .

“EDI.”

“Yes, Shepard.” Her voice drifted down more gently, more intimately, than it did on the bridge.

“I’m lonely.”

“I am here, Shepard. I will keep watch through the night. It’s safe to sleep.”

She sighed into her pillow, relaxed her shoulders. There were times EDI seemed more human than humans.

“Thanks, EDI.”

**Author's Note:**

> More chapters to follow!
> 
> If anyone wants to beta read an upcoming chapter of Shakarian, M!Shoker, or Pavelyan stories, [let me know](https://archiveofourown.org/users/DAfan7711/profile). I’m also available to beta read for others.


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